


shut up and listen to me dumbass i LIKE you

by cadavrii



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Awkward Romance, Canon Universe, Early Relationship, Fluff, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Lore friendly, M/M, One Shot, Short & Sweet, Sokka is gay and impulsive, Suspense, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko is gay and dumb, zukka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24930358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadavrii/pseuds/cadavrii
Summary: Feeling more comfortable, Zuko asked Sokka to tilt his head forward so he could get at a better angle. Sokka obliged, but, to Zuko’s alarm, a little too quickly; he let out a yelp of pain and threw his hand to the back of his neck.“Whoa, you okay?” Zuko wondered aloud. He laid his sword on the bed and removed the fabric from Sokka’s shoulders.“Yea, fine.” Sokka grumbled, rubbing his neck wearily. Though Zuko was standing behind him, he could tell he was grimacing. He stood silently while Sokka’s hand searched his shoulder blades for the pinched nerve. Zuko hesitated, weighing his next move very carefully. After a moment of consideration, he gently placed his hands on each side of Sokka’s neck. Sokka went still, his hand still hung by his collar, but after a brief pause, he slowly retracted it, and waited quietly for whatever it was Zuko was planning.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 446





	1. the tension is mounting and i'm Jealous

**Author's Note:**

> based off of this tumblr post: https://s0nofursa.tumblr.com/post/621049299020742656/okay-western-air-temple-era-au-where-sokka
> 
> brief summary: Sokka needs a haircut. Katara is busy. Zuko isn't.

“So... just, sit down anywhere right?” Sokka stood stiffly in Zuko’s door frame, quite unsure what to do with himself. He’d realized as he entered that this would be the first time he’d been around Zuko without the convenient buffer of additional company. Thus, he wavered in the entryway, his mouth feeling dry, quite aware of the weight of his arms.

“Uh, yea just set up over there.” Zuko gestured idly to a stone tablet by his bed and Sokka did as he was told. He had dampened his hair prior to his arrival, as Zuko had asked him to, a decision he’d now begun to regret. It dripped awkwardly onto his collar and down his spine, aggravating his already uneasy stomach. He watched as Zuko walked barefoot across his room and pulled the portière over his door frame shut.

The room was dim, save for the spattering of sunlight that ebbed through the vine-covered air duct in the ceiling. Nonetheless, Sokka could tell it was well kept. The temple had been abandoned long before they arrived and had fallen into considerable ruin, but Zuko’s floor and walls had been since cleaned of dirt and rubble, along with the broken furniture, which had been replaced with slabs of stone. Toph’s work, Sokka figured. He remarked at how spacious it seemed, in comparison to his own chamber of the same size. In his defense, Zuko had only a few possessions, but those which he had were lined up against the wall or folded neatly on his windowsill. This was in stark contrast to the clothing and supplies strewn about Sokka’s chamber floor, a mental image that made Sokka glad Zuko had asked him to come here instead.

Zuko removed one of his swords from the shelf on his far wall. He held it above his head so it caught the light, raising his arm and running his thumb deftly over the blade’s edge. He replaced the sword and instead withdrew its sister, then repeated the gesture. Satisfied, he returned to Sokka’s shoulder with his weapon of choice.

“These are by no means professional tools but, given our circumstances, I think they’ll work fine.” 

He handed Sokka a bit of fabric with which to cover his shoulders and readied his blade. He analyzed the back of the boy’s head in an attempt to create a plan of action. Sokka was right, he badly needed a trim. At its current length, his hair sat awkwardly on his shoulders and fell past his nose, creating a wall of curls that obstructed his vision. Not to mention, the weather had warmed up significantly over the last week, even at their extreme altitudes, and Zuko could see how shoulder-length hair could exaggerate the heat. Deciding finally to use his thumb to guide the blade and his pinky as a stabilizer, he narrowed his eyes and pressed his fingers gently into the back of Sokka’s neck. 

Sokka flinched violently when Zuko touched his skin. Zuko pulled back abruptly. 

“Sorry, did I get you?”

He looked questioningly at his sword; he was sure he hadn’t even made contact. Nonetheless, he hovered worryingly. He had warned Sokka when he asked him that he‘d never cut anyone‘s hair before, to which Sokka shrugged his shoulders and made a joke about cleaning up for the Firelord, but he still wanted to do a partially good job. After all, the group was still relatively distrustful of him, even though he had been working effectively with Aang for over a week. 

Sokka met Zuko’s gaze, looked away abruptly, turned a shade of green and forced out a reply.

“No, no, sorry. You’re fine, you didn’t cut me or anything. You’re- yea.

Sokka huffed and rubbed his ear, which was steadily turning pink.

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge today, I’m sort of...”

He trailed off in mumbles as Zuko eyed him inquisitively from behind.

“Right. Well, let me know if I do, okay?”

Sokka nodded silently. Zuko gave him a moment to gather himself before starting again. It seemed Sokka was able to quiet his nerves because this time, Zuko’s blade moved quickly and cleanly across the back of his neck, releasing a sizable chunk of hair. It fell dryly to the floor.

For a while, Zuko worked in silence. As he did, Sokka seemed to ease somewhat into the process; Zuko noticed his breathing slow and become consistent. Once he had successfully leveled half of Sokka’s head, Zuko grew tired of the silence and spoke.

“When was the last time you did your hair?”

Sokka seemed taken aback by the break in atmosphere, but kept his tone even.

“To tell you the truth, I have no idea. We’ve been running around so much lately that there’s barely any time to plan our next move, much less worry about stuff like that.

He paused for a moment, leaving the room in a state of quiet, pierced only by the sounds of Zuko’s blade sweeping through his hair.

“It was probably… well. Probably not since before the invasion. Time has gone kind of slowly since then.” 

Another pause.

“I haven’t been able to get much sleep since, either.”

Zuko stopped working. It was an odd thing to mention, really. Most of what he knew about the invasion was overly general and largely hearsay, if not for a few minor details he’d picked up from eavesdropping around the temple. What was bizarre to Zuko was that it was a noticeably tired affair amongst the group. Most talk of war was understandably centered around Sozin’s Comet, presumably, Zukko had decided, because there was no point over-examining past failure. Although, by the tone of Sokka’s voice, Zuko could tell it was a touchy subject. Spurred by Zuko’s stillness, Sokka craned around. 

“What? Sorry, did I move or something?”

“No, no. Nothing.”

Embarrassed, Zuko grabbed a towel from his windowsill and cleaned his blade of hair and debris. He certainly had questions of his own, but had held his tongue in fear of sparking offense. Keen to hear more, and taking Sokka’s comment as permission to speak openly, he turned his words to the invasion.

“It must’ve been hard, leaving so many behind like that.”

Sokka immediately stiffened and Zuko wished he hadn’t said anything. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, it’s fine. Really,” Sokka interrupted. He said it sternly, but not out of frustration. Rather, his tone assured Zuko that while he wasn’t interested in discussion, Zuko hadn’t crossed any lines. 

Zuko finished cleaning his blade and went back to work. He focused on Sokka’s ends, making sure to line them up as evenly as he could. Due to the use of his sword, it was painfully slow, but it was turning out somewhat acceptable. He made a mental note to mention it to Uncle when they next met.

Another few minutes passed in which neither boy spoke. This time around, Zuko observed that the silence was less glaring. 

Feeling more comfortable, he asked Sokka to tilt his head forward so he could get at a better angle. Sokka obliged, but, to Zuko’s alarm, a little too quickly; he let out a yelp of pain and threw his hand to the back of his neck.

“Whoa, you okay?” Zuko wondered aloud. He laid his sword on the bed and removed the fabric from Sokka’s shoulders. 

“Yea, fine.” Sokka grumbled, rubbing his neck wearily. Though Zuko was standing behind him, he could tell he was grimacing. He stood silently while Sokka’s hand searched his shoulder blades for the pinched nerve. Zuko hesitated, weighing his next move very carefully. After a moment of consideration, he gently placed his hands on each side of Sokka’s neck. Sokka went still, his hand still hung by his collar, but after a brief pause, he slowly retracted it, and waited quietly for whatever it was Zuko was planning. 

Grateful that this sentiment was not taken negatively, Zuko allowed his fingers to explore the sides of Sokka’s neck, tracing his thumbs down to his shoulders and back up to the bass of his skull. He worried briefly that he was pushing his luck, but Sokka did not flinch. Instead, he sat obediently in his seat, indicating that Zuko was free to do as he wished.

Emboldened by his receptivity, Zuko continued to map the arrangement of Sokka’s muscles, spiderwebbing his way across his upper back, his eyes mulling over the surface of his skin as he did so. Each time his pressure intensified, Sokka shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“God, you’re so tense. No wonder you haven’t been getting any sleep, you’re like, a MESS of knots. Here.” 

Zuko brought his hands together, rubbing them vigorously, then cupping them to his mouth and breathing into them. He repeated this process until his palms obtained a dull orange glow.

After testing their heat on his own arm, he pressed his thumbs into Sokka’s shoulder. Almost instantaneously, Zuko felt Sokka melt into his hands, letting out a steady hum as he did so, as if he were warm clay to be worked and shaped as Zuko pleased. 

Excited by Sokka’s reaction, Zuko eagerly began to work his thumbs into Sokka’s neck and shoulders, switching to his knuckles when one region was particularly tense, eagerly watching Sokka’s expression for hints. He ventured up his neck toward his jawline (everything is connected, after all), but all the while careful not to overstep his boundaries.

As he returned to Sokka’s inner shoulder, he felt the boy’s muscles retract tenderly. Zuko stopped working and placed two fingers just above Sokka’s scapula, about an inch from his spine. He applied pressure. Jackpot. As expected, Sokka recoiled beneath him. Zuko quickly removed his hand. In the absence of pain, Sokka released his jaw and closed his eyes.

“This seems to be a problem area for you. I want you to breathe into it, okay?”

Sokka nodded and took a deep breath, his shoulders and chest lifting with his lungs, and falling into neutrality as he exhaled.

“Good,” posed Zuko. “Just like that.”

Zuko placed his thumb and forefingers strategically around the knot in Sokkas back. He cocked his head, then began to work the surrounding area, careful not to push too hard, still watching Sokka intently for any sign of discomfort. 

As Zuko worked, Sokka continued to breathe deeply, as he was told to do. After a minute or so, he was able to drop his head an inch or so further, allowing Zuko to deepen his manipulation.

For a while, this was simply their existence. Zuko’s fingers danced skillfully across Sokka’s skin, using just enough of his strength to loosen, but not strain.

_"Shit."_ Sokka breathed.

Zuko smirked. He’d never admit it, but he was honestly enjoying himself. Maybe it was odd, but there was something gratifying in watching months of travel, warfare, and stress (granted, some of which he was undeniably responsible for) melt off of Sokka’s shoulders beneath him.

“Zuko, I need to ask you something.”

Zuko felt the energy in the room change. Out of nowhere, Sokka made himself out to be very small, as if he were suddenly ashamed of the service he was receiving. It wasn’t just his tone that was different, his whole demeanor shifted- to the point where Zuko began to worry that he had done something wrong. He stopped working but did not remove his hands from Sokka’s shoulders.

“Yes?”

Sokka swallowed clumsily. It was clear that this interaction was not planned. He stared hazily at a single spot on the opposing wall, as if it would tell him exactly what to say next. It didn’t. Zuko felt him begin to tremble beneath his fingers. 

“Do you... I...”

He struggled to choose the words, instead, his mouth forming inaudible shapes that lacked meaning. Zuko felt almost afraid for him, or... of him. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure which.

Sokka shook his head to himself and closed his mouth. He let his eyes fall shut and took a deep breath. Once more, Zuko felt his chest and shoulders rise, then fall, with his breathing. When he reopened his eyes, he was no longer trembling. He half-turned in his seat, hesitated, then brought his hand tentatively up to his neck to meet Zuko’s.

“Would you....?

His words dissolved as he turned his head to look up at Zuko through his damp hair, still largely unfinished, which Zuko abruptly remembered was the reason they were both there in the first place.

Their eyes locked. As Zuko stared back at him, his mouth slightly ajar, he noticed something distinct in Sokka’s gaze, something so completely and utterly opposite from the way he’d ever known Sokka to look at him before. Zuko had known those eyes to hold fear, hatred, suspicion, and more recently, naught beyond general disinterest and nonchalance. 

Zuko did not speak. He stood very still, his heartbeat drumming lowly in his ears as Sokka’s gaze pierced his own.

In a split moment of miscalculation, spurred, he can only imagine, out of the pure shock of the moment, he released his hands from Sokka’s neck, withdrawing them from beneath his and shifting his weight backward.

In an instant Sokka was on his feet and backing away, doubled over, almost cowering, repeatedly apologizing, his head swinging back and forth and his hands held out front of him.

Forcing himself back to his senses, Zuko moved toward Sokka, countering his slew of “Ohmygod I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry’s,” with “It’s okay! No, Sokka, it’s okay! It’s really okay’s.” Despite his efforts, it was clear that his momentary moment of weakness was more consequential than he could’ve foreseen; Sokka would not listen to him. Instead, he made an attempt to backpedal through Zukos’s doorway, but caught his heel on Zuko’s rug and stumbled into the decorative brass hangings on his door frame. As they fell to the ground with a crash, Sokka‘s apologies grew even more frantic, his unfinished hair swishing about his forehead as he bobbed up and down, simultaneously trying to regain his balance and reconfigure Zuko’s decor, all the while not daring to look him in the eye. Zuko took another step toward Sokka, his arm outstretched to show his good intentions, but he simply backed away further. He was absolutely beside himself. 

Out of nowhere, they were interrupted by a deafening explosion, sending them both to the ground and thrusting layers of soot into the air. The explosion was quickly followed by a muffled shout from an exasperated Katara, calling sharply for her brother, and shouting heatedly about “blasting jelly.”

Before Zuko could utter another word, Sokka had scrambled to his feet, excused himself loudly, and dashed from the room, leaving Zuko fixed to the center of his floor, his outstretched arm still suspended in front of him, looking entirely nonplussed. For a moment after Sokka had gone, Zuko stared aghast at the place where he’d stood.

_What... just happened?_


	2. diary of two hopeless queers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka forced himself off of the ground with a groan and began to shove handfuls at a time into a straw basket, moreso out of frustration than of legitimate responsibility, his thoughts falling quickly back to Zuko. Zuko, feeling his hair. Zuko, touching his skin. Zuko, the hotheaded loudmouth that’d accounted for many sleepless nights, genuinely perturbed by his recent insomnia. Zuko, being gentle with him, stroking his shoulders. Zuko, whose mere presence sets Sokka off like wildfire. Zuko, who could’ve put his hands anywhere else and Sokka wouldn’t’ve stopped him. Zuko, who was thoroughly oblivious to the effect he was having. Zuko, the man whom Sokka now knew he had fatally misread, whose look of mixed shock and horror had lodged itself into the deepest corners of his brain, and now played over and over on an invisible screen in front of his eyes. Sokka stopped, his basket overflowing with crumpled up fire nation regalia, and glared strainedly at the far wall. He’d really fucked this up, didn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off of this tumblr post: https://s0nofursa.tumblr.com/post/621049299020742656/okay-western-air-temple-era-au-where-sokka
> 
> brief summary: wow they're really both idiots aren't they. two halves of a WHOLE idiot, even. pt 2 and resolution to the mess that was chapter 1

_Stupid, stupid, STUPID, STUPID!_

Sokka fell against his chamber wall and slid limply to the floor, dropping his face into his palms. He was an idiot. Hell, Katara had been right all those times she’d accused him of it. Truthfully, he knew that she’d never meant it seriously and would flip if he ever actually agreed with her, but in this moment it was completely and utterly undeniable. His shoulders poked painfully into the stonework of his chamber wall but he didn’t care. In fact, he deserved it. No one in their right mind would try what he just had. What was he thinking? Not four days after Zuko had arrived and he makes a goddamned _pass?_ He was practically a stranger. Of _course_ he was weirded out. Who wouldn’t have been?

Sokka’s fingers slid from his forehead through his hairline and into his scalp. Hot tears massed beneath his eyelids, but he merely squeezed them tighter. He gripped at his unfinished hair, a throbbing reminder of the events that had unfolded less than twenty minutes prior. He hastily pulled a tie off of his wrist and threw his hair into a misshapen bun. Stray pieces that Zuko had first cut stuck out from the sides, too short to reach the top of his head. 

He dropped his hands to the floor and let his head fall back against the wall, his neck still feeling stiff. His stomach churned violently and he felt acid jump up and lick the inside of his throat, the heat biting his nostrils. His face twisted in discomfort, and he cleared his throat heavily. Zuko probably hated him. He probably never wanted to be alone with him again, lest repeat whatever the hell that was. Sokka just couldn’t believe how impulsive he’d been. Had he no self-control?

He pulled his smock bitterly over his nose, breathing in the sarrarine scent of the woven fabric. God, it’d been a while since he’d washed it. Not to mention, whatever preexisting stench it was holding had mixed with the salient smell of blasting jelly; that which he now passively thanked himself for leaving with Toph unattended. He pulled away in disgust and let it drop back onto his collar, glancing wearily across his room. He landed ruefully on the growing pile of laundry beside his bed, an unpleasant parallel to the chamber he’d just left. He forced himself off of the ground with a groan and began to shove handfuls at a time into a straw basket, moreso out of frustration than of legitimate responsibility, his thoughts falling quickly back to Zuko. Zuko, feeling his hair. Zuko, touching his skin. Zuko, the hotheaded loudmouth that’d accounted for many sleepless nights, genuinely perturbed by his recent insomnia. Zuko, being _gentle_ with him, stroking his shoulders. Zuko, whose mere presence sets Sokka off like wildfire. Zuko, who could’ve put his hands anywhere else and Sokka wouldn’t’ve stopped him. Zuko, who was thoroughly oblivious to the effect he was having. Zuko, the man whom Sokka now knew he had fatally misread, whose look of mixed shock and horror had lodged itself into the deepest corners of his brain, and now played over and over on an invisible screen in front of his eyes. Sokka stopped, his basket overflowing with crumpled up fire nation regalia, and glared strainedly at the far wall. He’d really fucked this up, didn’t he? 

\---

In the days that followed, Zuko’s predictions proved to be correct; it was clear Sokka was avoiding him. He almost never saw him around the temple, nor in his training sessions with Aang, which had, until recently, provided him a daily audience for snarky critique and fire-related humor. He was even absent at supper, which seemed completely out of character for him. In fact, Zuko had noticed Katara bringing him his meals after the campfire waned and most of the rebels dragged themselves off to bed. Even in the off-chance Zuko happened across him on the way to the bathrooms, Sokka would immediately turn his eyes to the floor and power-walk in the opposite direction, leaving Zuko embarrassed and, to be truthful, feeling rather shitty.

His mind constantly turned back to that afternoon in his bedroom. How could he have been so stupid? Was he really so incapable of human interaction that he had alienated the one person in the group that he had some semblance of a connection with? The one person who _liked_ him, even? Granted, Sokka’s attempt at flattery was completely out of nowhere and arguably less than subtle, but his intentions were pure, and, if Zuko was being completely honest with himself, had he not been so startled by them, he may not have turned them down. In reality, since that moment, he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. He constantly caught himself returning to that afternoon in his bedroom, pondering what exactly Sokka had initiated, and what he had so idiotically fumbled instantaneously. In all fairness, the gesture itself had been somewhat modest, but even though Sokka never really said anything incriminating, it was blatantly obvious what he was proposing. It was certainly food for thought, to say the least, and had plunged Zuko into a perpetual hyper-analysis of their prior interactions. It wasn’t that he _hadn’t_ thought about it, he’d acknowledged long before that Sokka was an attractive person; it’d just never really mattered, especially when the two of them were on opposing sides. It’d simply remained an afterthought, an observation that would resurface every so often, granted, more frequently as of late, in the occasional moments Sokka undressed around him, or brushed past his shoulder accidentally. But the second Sokka’s eyes, so remarkably readable, had latched hopefully with his own, his palm falling gingerly across Zuko’s knuckles and folding around them, ever so cognizant of its weight so as not to offend, it’d occurred to Zuko, for the first time, that their relationship could, possibly, extend beyond the lackadaisical glances Zuko made in his direction, or the times he caught himself offhandedly wondering what the boy was up to. 

He must’ve come across distractedly in his instructional sessions with Aang, who was quick to ask him what was on his mind. 

“Nothing, sorry.” Zuko replied hastily, returning to earth and realizing that Aang had gone through an entire stance regime, looked to Zuko for comment, and found him staring illegibly past him.

“Again. Please,” he forced out, eager to move on from the moment. Aang eyed him suspiciously, but did as he was told. 

The days beyond that melted together. Zuko assumed that Sokka had asked Katara to finish cutting his hair, because he’d noticed the odd layering he’d left with had been corrected. Although Sokka now seemed considerably more comfortable, it pained Zuko to think about. He would gladly have finished it himself if Sokka had asked him to. Instead, he promptly became recipient to a tenacious cold shoulder, awarded with uneasy glances any time Sokka happened by him. He tried to convince himself not to take it personally, but it isn’t easy to ignore the growing sense that you’ve made yet another enemy. Zuko couldn’t help but feel, well, _guilty._ No matter how hard he tried to help out, he’d inevitably stumble and make a fool of himself in the process. Something about him was just so undeniably _wrong_ that he managed to pollute anything and everything he had a hand in. I mean, _God,_ he couldn’t even _hairdress_ without causing dispute. Pitiful.

If only Sokka knew how badly he wanted to talk to him. As a matter of fact, as the week waned, Zuko found himself practically _longing_ for the boys’ company, reinventing scenarios in his mind in which things had gone differently, or in which Sokka had come to him in the following days to reconvene. It was the complete and utter isolation that killed him; it was torture. Zuko had even taken to listening in on the others’ conversations, perking up at any mention of Sokka, desperate for a clue. It was pathetic, really, a new low even for him, and Zuko wholeheartedly acknowledged this. But no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t tear his mind away from it. The foundation had been lain, provoking a spiral of incessant what-ifs and reverie for him to tumble helplessly into. Thus, any excuse to think about Sokka, Zuko indulged. 

He fell so deeply into distress that he invented for himself a plan of ambush, assuming guard over the bathrooms in a desperate ploy to catch the boy alone, but it seemed Sokka was so committed to avoiding him he’d found an alternative place to relieve himself, a realization that left Zuko guiltier than ever. He had even tried to convince Katara to let him bring Sokka his meal one night, but whether or not Sokka had briefed her on the circumstances, which, realistically, Zuko figured was unlikely, she‘d caught on to the dissent and grew protective of her brother's privacy. Zuko felt utterly powerless. Clearly, Sokka wanted nothing to do with him, and try as he may, he couldn’t get around it. Zuko didn’t necessarily blame him; inviting wasn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe their prior interaction. But if he could just _explain_ that he’d made a mistake, that he hadn’t meant it like that at all, that, true to his struggle with impulse control, he consistently failed at making high-stakes decisions, Sokka would understand. 

As the week neared a close, Zuko grew restless. On a particularly agitated morning, he awoke very early, having slept for only a few hours. Deciding it was useless staying in bed, and unable to fight the urge to wander, he had once again nailed himself to the ground outside the toilets in the dying hope that the early hour would embolden Sokka enough for him to risk it. Once again, no dice. Truthfully, Zuko hadn’t expected it to, but the repeated disappointments hadn’t made them at all easier to endure. Disgruntled, Zuko shoved his palms into his trousers and sauntered off to find Aang. At the very least, training with the young Airbender gave him an opportunity to put his frustration to use. Though Aang was growing noticeably tired of the extra work Zuko had been assigning him, he had been profoundly sensitive about Zuko’s recent change in demeanor and did not complain. Instead, he followed orders and worked with focus, save for the occasional glance in Zuko’s direction. In truth, both student and teacher knew that those few extra hot squats would benefit him in the end. “In the end,” Zuko repeated to himself gratingly. What a sinister way to describe what was now only a month or so in their future. Zuko wondered absentmindedly if his father had ever done hot squats. It was a silly thought, but you don’t become a master firebender, as his father was, by neglecting your basic training. Uncle had drilled that into his head enough for him to remember it well.

The intrusive and rather ridiculous image of his father and uncle engaging in furious hot-squattary had only grazed his mind when he turned the corner and-

_THUD._

Zuko walked directly into Sokka. Fortunately, Zuko kept his balance, but Sokka was not so lucky. He was much smaller in build than Zuko, and, although they were practically equal in height, he bounced pathetically off of Zuko’s body and stumbled backward, helicoptering his arms frantically to keep himself from falling. As he steadied himself, he locked eyes with Zuko- his own popping dangerously out of his skull. Zuko ogled, stunned, as Sokka’s fight-or-flight went into absolute hyperdrive. In the end, there was a clear winner; Sokka, rattling off several jumbled excuses he had not to be there, turned on his heels and hightailed it in the opposite direction. But Zuko wasn’t having it; Sokka had been eluding him for over a week, and he wouldn’t waste this opportunity.

“Sokka, just _wait_.” 

He said it with more force than he intended to and immediately regretted it. He was surprised when Sokka paused and turned back to face him, flushed as hell, but listening nonetheless. Zuko swallowed. Now what? In all the time he’d had to himself, he’d never stopped to think about what he actually wanted to say. He stood awkwardly in front of Sokka, thumbing the corners of his pants. Sokka peered back at him, waiting intently for him to speak.

“Look.” He finally began. “I’m not upset.”

Sokka’s gaze softened. Zuko felt something in himself release, too. In all honesty, it felt good to be _looked_ at after nearly a week of absolute evasion. More specifically, Zuko caught himself thinking, it felt good to be looked at because it was _Sokka_ doing the looking. 

“I want to apologize for what happened last week. I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. I was just- sort of startled, and I reacted out of instinct more than-

Sokka interrupted, speaking quickly and with his hands. “And I’m sorry for coming onto you out of nowhere, it was really fucked up of me and I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have assumed-

Zuko raised his hand and Sokka fell silent. He shook his head amusedly and half-smiled. He couldn’t believe he was saying this, but...

“Listen,” He said, dropping his gaze to the floor and scratching his eyebrow.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

Sokka instantly shut his mouth. He swallowed, but with difficulty; it seemed as though his mouth had suddenly gone very dry.

“You weren’t?”

Zuko met his eye, offering a bashful grin.

“No.”

Sokka’s brain was spinning so violently Zuko could practically hear it. He was undeniably at a loss for words. Zuko saw the chance and took it; here goes nothing?

“And,” Zuko added hurriedly, “Your assumption wasn’t too far off either.”

Sokka stared back aghast, a funny look forming on his face. It was arguably a much better explanation than he must’ve expected, Zuko surmised. But, as his confession registered between the two of them, the air became clearer, and Zuko felt as though whatever invisible force had been constructing his ribs for a week suddenly released him from its grip. In its place, a feeling of buoyancy was forming in his lower abdomen. He took a full breath and expelled it. Clarity.

“So.... what now?” Zuko inquired. As soon as words left his mouth, he hated how they sounded. It was less a question than it was to address the looming elephant in the room. He knew they were both thinking the same thing, so he might as well have brought it to light. In truth, he felt childish for asking, but what was the use in beating around the bush? To be honest, he’d surprised himself this past week; Sokka’s absence was scarily difficult to endure. Even now, in his company, he found himself wanting more. More in terms of conversation, of privacy, of closeness. Of course, it was undeniable that Sokka shared those feelings; it was for this reason Zuko knew it was silly to be embarrassed. Still, as the question landed, he felt himself recoil. 

Luckily, Sokka must’ve been waiting for him to take initiative, and jumped at the opportunity.

“Well...” he posed, trying and failing to mask a toothy grin. “You’re lookin’ a little worse for wear yourself there, pal.” 

Zuko absentmindedly ran his fingers through the mess that was the current state of his hair, brushing the tangled strands away from his face. It was disheveled and lush, and, well, Sokka was right; it was less than manageable. The last time he’d really “done” anything with it was in a sloppy and, though he regretted it now, violently impulsive attempt to curb its inconvenience. Since then, nearly a month had passed, and it had grown and matted and now cascaded over his eyes. It must’ve been worse than Sokka’s had been.

“Yeah,” He laughed, dropping his arm heavily. “I guess you’re right.” 

Sokka’s observation was straightforward and the implication was certainly there, but even so, Zuko rarely knew what to say in these situations. In his defense, he hadn’t had much opportunity to practice. Not that he detested that; it wasn’t the easiest position to be in, after all, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he were alone in his inelegance, having found it to be consistently one-sided. Flustered, he fell silent and waited for Sokka to speak again, hoping that his glaring social ineptitude wasn’t too much of a deterrent. Judging by Sokka’s expression, it wasn’t. He looked upon Zuko with a newfound sense of interest. The guilt that had previously clouded his eyes was gone, replaced with what Zuko could only construe as burning curiosity. Moreover, Zuko realized, if only in the last minute or so, they had gotten unmistakably bluer.

“If you want,” Sokka began, the corners of his mouth turning inward once more, “I could help you out with that. Y’know, return the favor, n’ all.”

Zuko instantly appreciated the length of his hair for obscuring his face, which was rapidly reddening. Sokka must’ve taken a step close to him, because the space between them suddenly felt smaller. He swallowed.

“I’d like that.”

Sokka beamed. Any prior attempts to mask his excitement were instantly discarded.

“Your place or mine?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank yall for reading! if you got this far please leave some love and share! I'm new to fic writing (this is my first finished/published piece) and tbh i'm having a good time so if yall want me to keep going u got it buddy. lmk what u want to see next! i always need ideas! i have 34567 unfinished things to keep ignoring!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! this is my first ~legit~ published fic and was primarily a self-challenge on brevity. chap 2 will be added asap!
> 
> check out my tumblr @s0nofursa for more zukka bs


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